Age is the proof of the pudding in love.
I know for a fact this is true.
The years are the heat and the steam and the pressure
that set well or turn into glue.
It’s not that you’re more present here,
for you are present everywhere.
I feel you in the warming sun;
the rising trees; the crisp, clean air.
Yet this safe ground, your place of rest,
surrounds my soul in comfort deep.
This refuge, framed in oak and redwood,
holds you in a sacred keep.
The jig is up; yer nuttin’ but
a stinkin’, snitchin’ lug.
Ya think I’m headin’ to da joint
cuz you can’t shut yer mug?
When memory calls out to me,
I open up life’s book
and turn the pages backward for
a long and lovely look.
Let’s take a trip! Sounds cool. Hurray!!
I really need some time away,
some time away from cares of home
to be me – free – and on the roam.
Can’t wait to gather up my stuff
and split. I’ll just include enough
of what it takes to have some fun.
It won’t take long; I’ll soon be done.
Our souls break free
like home runs
knocked to earth from outer space.
We sail away from heaven
bright-eyed, focused on first base.
The field glides by as our steps fly
around one corner bend.
Second’s in sight, but that’s all right.
We’re decades from the end.
The bases serve to guide us home,
but we must tag each one.
No worries, though. We came to win.
We’re gonna get it done.
woke up this morning
clothed in gray
world dressed down
to shade my way
Some men shall rise to everlasting burnings.
Celestial glory is the prize they seek.
Others will bow to worldly praise and guidance,
esteeming things that render spirits weak.